Sometimes You Wonder
by whatifellinlovewith
Summary: "There's a gasp. Not from her, but it echoes through the room all the same, catches off the walls and tears the illusion of fantasies to shred, replaces it with a vivid image that too closely resembles her dream. 'Castle'" Set post-8x03.
**Sometimes You Wonder**

* * *

 _In my dreams you're touching my face  
_ _And asking me if I want to try again with you._

* * *

It's the metallic click of the doorknob that drags her from her dream, makes the image of _him_ shatter to an image of a gun aimed at her chest and draws stuttering gasps from her throat as she jumps into consciousness, the lingering haziness of dreams blurring the edges of reality. It makes the ache in her shoulders dull, the trembling of her fingers non-existent, makes the metal of her gun untouchable, even as her hand closes around it.

It makes the threat at the door _real._

Her aim is off, her vision blurred and blackened around the edges, her hand shaking, weak from sleep and fear, from the same thing that has her heart stuck, still within her chest.

And then there's a gasp. Not from her, but it echoes through the room all the same, catches off the walls and tears the illusion of fantasies to shred, replaces it with a vivid image that too closely resembles her dream.

" _Castle?_ "

Her words are slurred, the sharp edge of his name falling flat, getting lost in the racing of her breath on a sigh of relief he shouldn't know about. She drops the gun with it, lets it fall to rest on her thighs, as her eyes fall shut, open again to make sure he's really there.

That this isn't just another day when the moments between sleep and wakefulness make her forget that she left, that she doesn't sleep next to him anymore. It doesn't make her forget the look on his face as her lips last touched his, her thumbs brushing the ridges of his cheekbones.

He is still here, standing still in the entryway, one hand on the doorknob, the other held up near his face, his fingers cutting through the sharp lines of her name written on a coffee cup.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

His mouth opens and closes, the words caught, the silence giving her time to adjust herself on the couch. She tugs at the hem of her shirt, crosses her legs, her arms, anything to hide the arrhythmia of her heart, the itching in her palms to reach for him and smudge her lips against his, wipe away the pain in his eyes with her touch, with promises of her love.

Both of which are forbidden.

She curls her fingernails into her palm instead of letting herself feel the scratch of his stubble against her skin. Swallows back the _I miss you_ that wells in her chest every time she sees him.

"Castle?" she says instead.

He steps closer to her, and her stomach twists, the lift of her brows like a mask to hide how much she craves his presence, his touch.

"You're sleeping _here_?" he asks. "At the precinct?"

Denial wells and deflates, her shoulders sinking along with her will to hide this from him any longer. "Just for now," she whispers, the words heavy and bitter on her tongue. "Until I find…something else."

His face falls, like the embers of hope that stayed lit in his heart have been put out, and it makes her eyes sting from the smoke that lingers, the ever-present reminder of her decision that makes tears well in her eyes too often. That makes seeing him all that much harder.

"You shouldn't be here," he mumbles. Not to her. To no one. To everyone and everything and the situation that makes no sense but is the only solution her scattered brain can find. "You should be at the loft."

He pauses. And her knowledge of him, of what words will fall into the silence next, has her squeezing her eyes shut against the wetness welled there, sending the tears trickling down over the bumps and valleys of her cheeks.

"You should be at home."

"Castle."

It's a warning. A breath. A reflex, to keep him quiet and quell the shouts of doubt making her head ache.

"No," he says. And it's firm and sure and everything she _isn't_ , everything she was before her life was turned upside down and she walked out that door.

Everything that could drag her back to him, put him in danger. Get him _killed._

But the words are trapped, the explanation a secret, the fear making her breath catch and refuse to escape, stealing her ability to speak. To make him and his coffee and his words go away so she can pretend this is what she wants, what she needs, when her heart is screaming at her that it's really _him_ that will keep her above water.

And her silence gives him time, gives him freedom. He steps towards her, dropping the coffee cup, the silent _I love you_ onto the nearest flat surface as he falls to sit on the couch next to her. It dips under his weight, has her tilting towards him and she can't bring herself to move away.

Not when his shoulder brushes against hers, or when his fingers curl around her knee, or when he's so close she feels the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

"I don't know why you left," he tells her. "I don't know what changed between us, what happened that made you decide this is better. But I know it's not right, Kate. That whatever happened, whatever I did, it can be fixed."

His voice is laced with sincerity, his words wrapped in layers of his love. The same love that has her head spinning and heart racing and her world shattering all at once.

Because the look in his eyes is just like the day she left. Just like the version of herself she sees in the mirror, desperate to go back in time and ignore that phone call and spend that morning with his lips against hers and his arms around her waist until she had to walk out the door.

To have not been the one that broke his heart after he put hers back together.

And his hand lifts from her knee, the brush of his fingers over her thigh making her sit up straight to stop the shiver that threatens her spine. His eyes are still locked on hers, their blue as deep as the oceans they match, keeping her breath shallow, her resolve weak, as his palm curls around her jaw, his thumb tracing the path of her tears on her cheek.

"I miss you. So much, Kate," he whispers. "I want you to come home. I want to fix whatever's broken, no matter what it takes. I'll sleep in the guest room. We can go to therapy. We can do _anything_ , just not this."

His eyes water, the pain in his irises magnified even as her own vision twists and blurs from the tears in her own. The water catches on his lashes, rolls down his cheeks, a mirror of the lone tear rolling over hers, catching at the corner of her mouth and tasting as bitter as the words she has to say.

The ones she wishes he'd never have to hear.

The ones that stay silent because he speaks first.

"Come home. Please, Kate, give this another try," he says, the words a shaky mess that matches her mind and the weak beats of her heart. "We've been through so much, we can survive this. We can beat this, come out of it stronger, just let me try to make it better. Give me another chance."

Her words get stuck when she swallows, the tears in her eyes and the lump in her throat keeping them heavy on her tongue, in her chest, a blur of meaningless syllables racing in her mind, trapped behind her teeth.

And she lifts her hand, letting the barricade of her crossed arms fall apart, to rest her palm over his, to curl her fingers into the gaps she left vacant. Her grip on him tightens. She offers unfounded reassurance even as she draws his hand from his face, breaks the touch that makes her resolve crack.

Gives herself a second to build it back up again.

"Rick," she breathes, his name as broken as his heart, as her own. "I wish I…I wish so much."

His fingers twist in her grasp, catching the trembling of her hands and making it stop with the warmth of his touch and the strength of his love.

"We can make it reality, Kate, whatever it is."

She shakes her head at that, ridding herself of the whispers telling her it's true, that they can forget all of this, move forward, together. To silence the part of her that wants to surge forward and kiss him and take him up on his offer.

"We can't," she says. "I…I can't. Not right now."

His breath shakes. His voice cracks. "Then when?"

"Soon." Her eyes pop open, and fall closed again, disappointment making her head pound, making the pain in his eyes hurt her like a blade to her chest. "I hope…I hope it's soon."

And she untangles herself from him, physically and emotionally, the best she can. Her hands press against the cushion as she pushes herself up off the couch, away from him to keep herself intact, even as she watches him fall apart.

Because of her.

"I hope it's soon, too," he breathes, because there's nothing else to say. Nothing that will bridge the gap between them right now, or fix the gaping holes she left on their hearts.

Or the ragged edge that his next words leave on the wounds.

"I love you." He pauses on his way out, reaches for the door and pulls it open, turning back to face her for just a second of stillness that steals her strength. "And I'll still love you, whenever you can come back to me."

And then he's gone, leaving behind the memory of tears gleaming in his eyes and the echo of his voice cracking between beautifully painful words. The lingering image of him walking away with his broken heart on his sleeve and her shattered one balanced between love and hate, waiting to be reassembled like he always manages to do.

Like he would do, if she would only put this all aside and choose him—choose _herself_ —over this case, this addiction she cannot cure.

But she can't.

She already broke his heart. She can't let somebody else break the rest of him.

But that doesn't quell the regret, the need, the pain that blooms through her body and has her collapsing into her chair, crying into the emptiness of the precinct and hoping he's already gone too far to hear the broken noises escaping a broken woman with no way of fixing herself.

And only one way of saving him.

* * *

 _And I almost do.  
_ \- Taylor Swift

* * *

 **I know angst isn't exactly what this fandom needs right now, but it's what my brain came up with. So, sorry? And, as always, a huge thank you goes to Lindsey for beta'ing this for me.**


End file.
